SAMUEL BAMFORD, the handloom weaver of Lancashire, is a true specimen of the poet of the working class. Into his heart the sacred fire of poetry has descended, and the music of his lyre is not the less sweet an utterance that his mind has been tempered, and his affections tried by severe persecution and suffering. Nor has stern poverty, which, for many of the best years of his life, condemned him to work hard and fare meanly, in any wise served to close his eyes or ears to the beauties and melodies of nature, whose spirit-whispers have spoken eloquently to his soul on the mountain side, and in his home-valley; and which have often found for themselves beautiful and cheerful echoes in his songs and lyrics. Bamford is a Lancashire man, born and bred-an inheritor of that sturdy spirit of independence, which the indomitable old Saxons carried with them into the forests and morasses of South Lancashire, when driven thither before the superior discipline and prowess of the mailed Norman men-at-arms a spirit which they have retained among them down to the present day, to do many a stout battle yet for liberty and right. The inhabitants of the South-western districts of Lancashire are a robust, manly, industrious, shrewd, and hard-headed race of people. They have peculiar physical characteristics, and their moral features correspond. They inhabit a rugged and naturally barren district; deemed unworthy of being taken possession of by the followers of the Norman William, who, having possessed themselves of the rich pasture lands of the low country, drove their former occupiers into the morasses of the interior, and the forests of Pendle and Rossendale. The conquerors then built fortresses at the entrances of all the valleys commanding the "wild" district, at the mouths of the Ribble, the Lune, and the Mersey, the ruins of which are still to be seen; and thus they hemmed in the Saxon foresters who would not consent to give up their independence. It was long indeed before their resistance to the Norman authority entirely ceased; and in all great popular movements, even down to our own day, the men of these districts have always been among the foremost. In the civil wars of the Stuarts-more especially during the GREAT REBELLION' against tyrannic wrong in Charles the First's time, the inhabitants of the Lancashire forests were almost to a man on the side of the Parliament; and the first open encounter, in which blood was shed, took place at Manchester-then, as now, the great metropolis of the district. Bradshaw, President of the Council of the Commonwealth, one of the purest of the great public men of that period, was born in the forest of Rossendale, in the midst of a bold and freedom-loving population, and in a district calculated to develope all the republican tendencies of his nature. Indeed, the resistance which the people of that district have always offered to the ascendant aristocratic power, may be regarded as part of the same inveterate struggle between Norman and Saxon which formerly ravaged the country. And to this day, it still is, in some measure, a struggle of races as well as of classes. The institutions of the Conqueror have never been heartily recognised; the Church which it offered has always been rejected: almost the whole population being even now, extreme Dissenters, vehemently opposed to "Church and State." The recent Anti Corn-Lawagitation, which originated with and was virtually carried by the men of Lancashire, was a striking instance of the hereditary resistance offered even to this day, by the men of Saxon descent, to the institutions of the conquerors. In such a district, and amid such a people, was Samuel Bamford born. Though sprung from poor and hard-working parents, we find in one of his books, presently to be mentioned, that he claims gentle blood; the elder branch of the lords of Bamford, from whom our hero is descended, having lost his lands by rebellion against the king during the civil wars, while the loyal younger brother, at the Restoration, obtained possession of the estate. The birth-place of the subject of our sketch, was the town or village of Middleton, near Manchester, where he first saw the light, in February, 1788. His parents were poor, but respectable, and were deeply imbued with religious feelings, belonging to the then new sect which followed John Wesley. His mother, like the mothers of most men of strength of character and intellect, was a remarkable woman-and to a strong mind, in her were united a great tenderness and delicacy of feeling, which caused her not less to sympathize with others in distress, than to be sensitive of wrongs received by herself and her family from proud and unfeeling relations. The father, having succeeded in ebtaining a situation in the Manchester workhouse, the family removed thither; but small-pox and fever suddenly fell upon them, and in a very short time, two of the children were carried off by the one, and Bamford's mother and uncle by the other. His father, having contracted a second marriage, which turned out most unhappily for the children, they were shortly after sent out into the world to make their way as they could, "shorn to the very quick." Samuel had, however, by this time,-about his tenth year,-acquired the art of reading, and already become a devourer of such books as he could lay his hands on. The school education which he had obtained was very scanty, but it was sufficient for his purpose then. He read all sorts of romantic legends and ballads, varied by Wesley's Hymns, and Hopkins and Sternhold's Psalms on Sundays. An old cobbler, whose acquaintance he made, taught him tunes to such ballads, as "Robin Hood," and "Chevy Chace;" and also excited his wonder, by remarkable ghost stories, and accounts of fairies, witches, and wonderful apparitions, in all of which-like most of the Lancashire peasantry of that day he was a pious believer. Bamford, after leaving his father's home at this carly age, was taken to reside with an uncle and aunt at Middleton, where the monotony of the bobbin-wheel and the loom soon cast a shade over his buoyant spirits. A merely mechanical, gin-horse employment, as was that now before him, was intolerable to his mind; and he seized the opportunity of every piece of out-of-doors drudgery which presented itself, to escape from his hated employment. Amongst other things of this sort, it was his place to fetch the family's milk from a distance, and, had not his thoughts been with scenes and companions he had left, it might have seemed an omen of good, when a little fair girl,-an orphan, like himself (for such in reality he was) appeared at his uncle's house, charged with the task of shewing him the way. She was just a peeping bud of a child, and he a hale, swipper boy of her own age; and somehow it happened that whenever after, he went to fetch the milk, though he did not require to be shewn the way, the little girl would be sure to be found on the road, when she would take up her pitcher and with looks of undisguised pleasure would accompany him. On these occasions she would endeavour to entertain him with her innocent notions about school tasks, and play-things, and fine new clothes; her parents she never knew; whilst he would narrate what to her were marvellous accounts of the great house he had left, and of his play-mates, and the books he had read, and of his father, to whom his saddened thoughts often re verted, and of his dead mother, and his good uncle, un-embraced an opportunity of leaving the ship at London, til her eyes, like his, would be moistened with tears; and thus, they spent many sadly happy hours of their sweet morning time, she becoming to him an always welcome companion, but for the present, nothing more, and he becoming to her, the only object of pleasurable association she had in the world. The relations with whom he lived, were, like his parents, of the Methodist persuasion. They regularly attended chapel and class; and were frequently visited by the ministers on the circuit. Jonathan Barker, a firstrate preacher, was one of the favourites. Jabez Bunting, then a very young preacher, excited great expectations, but when in the pulpit, he had a most unseemly way of winking both eye-lids at once, like two shutters, which caused some mirth and much observation amongst the youngsters as to the cause of it. John Gaulter was always heard with pleasure, both in the pulpit, and out of it. He imparted an interest to whatever he said, by introducing anecdotes, short narratives, and other apt illustrations of his subjects; and if it became of an affecting turn, as it was almost sure to do, the good man and his congregation generally came to a pause amid tears. He and Mr. Barker, had no slight influence on the feelings, convictions, and opinions, of Bamford, in his after years. The Sunday school connected with this place of worship, Bamford, of course, had to attend with the other members of the family. He now at first made one of the Bible class, and was probably a better reader than any person about the place except the preacher. The only things they could teach him were writing and arithmetic, and as he felt his want, particularly of writing, and was anxious to get on, he was soon placed at a desk, and after a copy or two of "hooks and O's," he began to write "joynt hand," as it was termed in the homely phrase of his instructor; and from that time he made his own way. Meanwhile time passed, and Bamford was promoted from the bobbin-wheel to the loom, where he turned out a good and ready weaver. He became more reconciled to his condition, and, as if to vary its sameness, love, which is seldom absent where the spirit of poetry is present (and he was imbued with that) now made approaches in an unmistakeable form, and to him proved an angel both of light and of darkness. More than one tender acquaintance was formed in succession, and the romantic susceptibility of his temperament seldom permitted him to remain uninfluenced by some "Cynosure of neighbouring eyes." and set out on foot to walk the journey homewards into Lancashire. At St. Alban's he was stopped and questioned by a press-gang, and escaped only by an exercise of his presence of mind, and the fortunate circumstance that the commander of the party could not read writing. Bamford reached home a more thoughtful man than he went. He now obtained a situation in a warehouse at Manchester, and having, at times, considerable leisure, he resumed his habits of reading. "Cobbett's Register" was now amongst the prose works which he read with avidity, and those of Shakespere and Burns were the chief poetical ones,-the latter being his especial favourite. He was now, if possible, more embued with romance than ever, and when not at his place in the warehouse he lost no opportunity of secking out "Fresh woods and pastures new." Manchester and its suburbs were not then what they are now. The heights of Cheetwood were rural knolls, with quiet dells, out in the country. Cromsal, with its undulating pastures and gentle slopes, was interlaced with meadow and field walks, where one might have" wandered many a day," without being disturbed by unwelcome observation. Broughton, with its old Roman Causey, its Giant-stone, and its woodlands, offered a complete labyrinth of bye-paths, shady lanes, and quaint cottages, with vines, and rose-bushes, and creepers trailing down from the thatch,—to say nothing of those delightful domestic attractions which are always found in cottages which are happy, and in gardens that are like Paradise. Love and poetry were thus again Bamford's Elysium, and peril and self-upbraiding were the cost of his unreflecting enjoyments; until he at last resolved to sever himself entirely from his adored "vanities of vanity." He accordingly wisely, though far too late, bestowed his hand on that orphan above noticed, who had long had his best affections and his entire esteem, and with her he completed that union which neither party has ever since had cause to regret. We now come to the middle life of Bamford, during which he took a prominent part in the stirring political movements of his time, some thirty years ago. This portion of his life is to be found detailed in a remarkably graphic and deeply interesting book which he has published, and by which he is chiefly known beyond the range of his own district, entitled "Passages in the Life of a Radical." This is truly a remarkable book— written with great force and brilliancy-teeming with exquisitely poetic descriptions of rural scenery and the beautiful in nature-wonderful in its delineations of cha But this sort of life could not be continued without lead-racter, and its descriptions of persons, hit off, like ing to temptations which require the guardianship of better angels than Bamford had the grace to invoke. The usual consequences followed, and regret and deep humiliation were the dregs at the bottom of his cup of sweetness. The evil example also, and conversation of reckless acquaintances, corrupted his better nature, and a wild and perilous course of life ensued. Feeling but little satisfaction at home, he resolved to seck it in far other scenes abroad. In the nineteenth year of his age, he entered into an engagement with a large ship-owner at Shields, and went on board his brig the Eneas, engaged in the coasting trade betwixt Shields and London. A storm of three days was the first particular circumstance that welcomed him to the ocean. Many vessels were lost in that storm, and though the old sailors on board said nothing to him, and but little to each other, he could not but remark the expressive looks they interchanged. He remained some time with this vessel, and made a number of voyages coastwise, but the almost irresponsible power of the captain, and his capricious use of it, disgusted Bamford, as it was sure to do, with his situation and with the sea service in general; and he Retsch's outlines, almost at a stroke,-in other parts, shrewd, homely, and humourous, and again, earnest, emphatic, and truly eloquent, in the advocacy of the best means of elevating the condition of the great body of workmen to whom the author naturally belongs. But the chief value of the book, in our estimation, is in that it is a true and faithful history of a deeply eventful period in the political life of England-not as regards the heads of parties and the leaders of factions-but as regards the masses of the industrious people, and pourtrayed by a leading actor in the stirring events which he describes. We have had many lives of Pitt, and lives of Canning, and lives of this, that, and the other party leader, but the humble political life of Samuel Bamford, modestly entitled "Passages in the Life of a Radical," gives a truer insight into the life and political condition of the English people in recent times, than all the lives of political leaders that we know of put together. Bamford begins his political life with the introduction of the Corn Bill in 1815,-one of the first fruits of that long series of victories and havoc, which covered Britain with "glory," the aristocracy with stars and ribbons, and the people with taxes. Waterloo had just been fought; the banded kings of Europe had hunted Napoleon from his throne; and the "legitimate" proprictors of the human species in England proposed at once to celebrate their triumph by the enactment of a Corn Law. Riots took place in most of the large towns-in London and Westminster, Bridport, Bury, Newcastleon-Tyne, Glasgow, Dundee, Nottingham, Birmingham, Walsall, Preston, and numerous other places. The public mind was deeply excited, and organized political agitation commenced. Cobbett's writings were extensively read among the working classes, and he directed their attention to the main cause of the then misgovernment, in the corruption of Parliament and the insufficient representation of the people. Hampden clubs were formed in the towns, villages, and districts of the country, which gathered around them the leading active spirits of the time. One of these clubs was established at Middleton, in 1816, of which Samuel Bamford, by reason of his knowledge of reading and writing, was chosen Secretary. Religions services were connected with the political discussions of the members; and the influence of the clubs extended over almost the entire working population. Meetings of delegates from various parts of Lancashire took place, and the organization of the movement rapidly spread. Some members of the clubs went out as missionaries, Bamford frequently being thus sent to rouse the inactive in remote parts. When these Hampden Clubs had been sufficiently extended over the country, a general meeting of delegates was summoned to be held in London, under the presidency of Sir Francis Burdett, about the beginning of the year 1817. Bamford attended as a representative of the Middleton Club, and while in London had interviews with most of the leading "Reformers," graphic descriptions of many of which are given in his "Passages." Those of Hunt and Burdett are capitally hit off. Bamford again returned to Middleton, with a report of his mission; but by this time the alarm of the Government was excited, and the Habeas Corpus Act was suspended. Then followed the infatuated Blanket expedition," to which Bamford was always opposed: still worse, destructive physical force projects were recommended; the usual consequences followed-public meetings were put down, and secret ones commenced; spies went among the people, blowing the embers of rebellion; apprehensions of the suspected followed, and Bamford, among others, was arrested on suspicion of high treason, carried across the Manchester" bridge of tears," and imprisoned in the New Bailey. Nothing can be more interesting than Bamford's description of his wanderings in company with his odd friend "Doctor Healey," among the moors and morasses of the wild districts of South Lancashire, in their attempts to evade apprehension, and of their after confinement and adventures in the New Bailey. There is a wonderful mixture of pathos and broad humour, poetry and fun, sense and nonsense, in these descriptions, from which, we regret, our limited space does not afford us room to extract. We cannot, however, resist the temptation to give the author's portrait of himself, his wife, and family, at this period. Of himself "Behold him then. A young man, twenty-nine years of age; five feet ten inches in height; with long well-formed limbs, short body, very upright carriage, free motion, and active and lithe, rather than strong. His hair is of a deep dun colour; coarse, straight, and flakey; his complexion a swarthy pale; his eyes grey, lively, and observant; his features strongly defined and irregular, like a mass of rough and smooth matters, which, having been thrown into a heap, had found their own subsidence, and presented as it were by accident, a profile of rude good nature, with some intelligence. His mouth is small; his lips a little prominent; his teeth white and well set; his nose rather snubby; his cheeks somewhat high; and his forehead deep and rather heavy about the eyes." The last time we saw Bamford, the "deep dun" hair had become a sober grey, and wrinkles had begun to shew themselves about the corners of the eyes and the mouth. But there was the same manly upright gait, the same open countenance and generous frankness of demeanour, which at once won our heart. (To be continued.) THE SONGS OF ZION. BY WILLIAM KENNEDY. "WOULDST thou hear the wondrous strain(Spirits to my spirit said) Glory once of Salein's fane, By the hero-minstrel led ? Heavenly strain, the pride of days Joyous with Jehovah's praise! Would'st thou hear it, softly waking On the breast of silence sweet; Evening winds, with solemn swell,- Sad, as breaking heart's farewell. "Fain would I that music hear- Pining in an alien clime! As my spirit made reply, Wildly rose and faintly fell "Look on widowed Zion-shorn Desolation spreads its pall- Thus the spirits spake-to paining Altered was my spirit's mood, By this sorrowful rebuke- Forth it flew o'er Kedron's brook- Grief oppressed, and lonely, lonely- SERVANTS AND SERVITUDE. By JAMES BEAL. are essentially aristocratic, it pervades every rank and condition in society. What can be said in extenuation of the order that till recently stared us in the face, on entering Kensington Gardens-the most damning evidence of the debasement of the lower orders in this country; and that expressed as much as anything else to which we can allude, that the people were the slaves of an aristocracy-" No Dogs or Livery Servants admitted." Was it not a positive insult to every Englishman, an outrage on our national feelings. A fellow man of good character, a necessary conclusion from his being in a situation, placed on a par with the canine race, putting out of the question the prohibition to his entrance. Talk not of the debasement of the Northern States of North America, in allotting to the black his portion of the sacred edifice, whilst we ourselves commit an offence, as immoral, as opposed to every dictate of humanity and religion. THE Condition and position of servants, and the influence exercised by them on society at large, have seldom been considered inviting themes, except to the caricaturist, the novelist, or the comedian. A passing remark on their vices and their follies, an ironical account of their peeping, prying, and listening peculiarities, of how high life was enacted below stairs, with a flourish of language, to show how all are under the influence of the same evil genius, is all that can be gathered from the literature of the day, respecting them-which remark will apply equally to that of the days that are past, of the truth of which, the writings of Swift and Mandeville, bear imperishable records. From all this, we might imagine, that there are certain striking peculiarities annexed to their character, and inherently connected with their condition, which form altogether so large an ingredient of their compound nature, that, they are placed out of the pale of the community, and form of themselves, a class so distinct, that to society, they are totally irreclaimable. Differing considerably from our aristocratic writers, in my estimate of their cha-ance introduced, to degrade him in the eyes of his felracter, and considering that the influence exercised by them on society is great, arising as much from their numbers as from their position; it will not, I trust, be deemed too presumptuous in me to attempt, in this short essay, to clear away the film that blinds the mass of society, to this particular portion of it. It is not above four years since, a chapel of ease, attached to the Established Church, had a notice printed outside the doors, that "No Livery Servants were admitted." God forbid that I should defend it, in America, but let us equally expose the errors of ourselves. Could we wonder if we found a servant the most degra ded of men, when every exertion is used, every applilow men. Look again, at the livery, as much the "Badge of Slavery" of the nineteenth century, as the collar of iron was in the palmiest days of the feudal system. The day may come, however, when it will be the only distinction, between the aristocracy and the masses. They, themselves, may wear the party-coloured Like all institutions in vogue, and in connection with cloth, with the arms of their ancestors emblazoned on the aristocratic classes of this country, we must seek their breast, a befitting memorial of the change, that for its origin in the rude and semi-barbarian ages, and civilization and enlightenment will introduce. Can we in connection with the feudal system. To that period point to anything more likely to debase the character of a when the villain of the feudal baron, bore on his collar class, than placing a bar to their reception, in any genof iron an inscription that proved him to be the born teel society. What inducement is there for a servant to thrall of and when he was considered part spend his earnings or spare time apart from the public and parcel of the estate, when in fact, the most degrad- house, whilst the grade of which he is a member, is ing system of domestic slavery formed part of our na- under the ban, a virtual interdict existing against his tional institutions, to that must we refer, and from that reception into society at large, even by those who oc trace the origin, and delineate the progress of the pre-cupy a position, but one remove from his. And can we sent system. It is sufficient, however, for my present hide from ourselves the glaring fact, that much, very purpose to observe, (without detailing the ameliorations much of the ignorance that prevails amongst this class, in the condition, which the spirit of the times has is to be placed to the debtor account of the aristocracy. rendered necessary from that period to now) that, what If in public they are afraid to avow it, in private, they the serf of the feudal baron of the twelfth century was, tremble at the idea of education and enlightenment, the servant of modern days is, in the eyes and estimation throwing its holy and purifying influence among them-of our aristocratic lords and ladies, in which latter term it is the ignorance alone that exists among the majority falls to be included), all who from their aristocratic con- of this class, that makes them the slaves of the dominections or wealth, whether derivable from the loom nant class. It will be found on enquiry, that the majo and spinning jenny, from merchandize, or distillation, rity of servants, who are in any way instructed, have or any of those speculations, in which immense capitals received that little, at an eleemosynary school, of course are embarked and to whom our term of merchant prin- under the patronage of the aristocracy. The so-called ces is applicable, are enabled to add to their dignity by national schools, form an easy exemplification of my a retinue of retainers. Between them and their retain-ideas. In these, instances frequently occur of children ers there exists no fellow feeling, the ties of our com- of both sexes continuing three and four years, and mon brotherhood are snapped asunder, and between leaving without even a common knowledge of the ru them, a wide and startling gap intervenes-implicit diments of instruction-should such a glaring injusobedience to commands, and a submissive, respectful demeanour on the one hand, is repaid by commands (given in the most imperative tone) to perform the most degrading offices, and by a contemptuous haughty demeanour on the other hand. In the servant the native dignity of our nature is for the time broken or crushed; in the master, the worst passion of our nature is exhi-future they had pictured to themselves, of the future bited in all its hideous deformity. The spirit that dietated the expression,-"I am the porcelain, you are only the common clay," is not confined to the original speaker, but with few exceptions, is very generally participated in. It is not, however, solely by the aristocratic class, that the servant is treated with such contumely, the fault is largely participated in, by the middle and working classes. The feelings of the English people tice be brought under the notice of its patrons, a lord, or esquire, may be even some right rev. member of the prelacy, or a rev. sir, the answer is one that stamps the system as a paltry, despicable attempt to retard the progress of knowledge, holding out false hopes to a needy parent, blasting in the bud all the hopes and happy excellence and prosperity of their child, who, under the influence of knowledge they had hoped to see emanci pated from the trammels that surround themselves. Name to one of these lordly patrons, the defective condition of a child, and you will have for answer,— "Oh! what does he want with all that nonsense, teach him to work, to get his living-you dont want to make a fine gentleman of him, do you?" Is it to be wondered at then, that the servants as a class, are ignorant, and consequently more open to attacks from without, and yet, how few of their body ever figure in the criminal calender, compared (more especially) with the class whose inferiors they are more immediately considered. The present organization of society requires a class of this description, then why should they be spurned. Their faults have been paraded about and exposed, and on the defection of one the whole are slurred. What would our aristocratic class think if we judged them (as a whole) by a Newcastle, a Winchelsea, or a Wellington, or by shoplifting lords and ladies. They have their faults, I pronounce them not infallible, but many intimately connected with their condition. Their character may be considered as moulded from the circumstances that surround them, although I by no means agree to that principle as a rule-their social degradation arises from their position, whilst every other class forms "Unions" of defence, they are debarred therefrom-compelled to put up with the greatest injustice, insulted, wronged, and trampled upon-they are compelled to swallow all. Should one dare resent the insult, his character is gone, the public papers record his offence, and re-iterate in our ears-his MASTER ordered him to do this and the other. The very word smacks of intolerance and degradation. The state of our laws, imposes this silence on them, for should they think proper to defend themselves against a false accusation, they are discharged forthwith-another situation offers-and the employer alias master, refuses to give a character, and the poor servant, deprived of the means of obtaining a livelihood, cannot compel him, nor is he at liberty to recover damages in a court of justice for the injury and Injustice, he suffers. No care and attention is paid to their comfort and well-being. Visit the "Servant's Hall," in what is considered the best families-a table, two forms, fender, fire-irons, furnish it complete; no curtains, no chairs, destitute even of those little appliances, and trifling requirements, that are to be found in the lowleist cottage and contribute to render a home all that is sacred, all that is dear. It too often happens in conjunction with the hall, that a sleeping apartment for men servants is made, without fire place or windows-a low, dark, miserable hovel, causing frequent illness and even death. The servant has no time that he can call his own, his nights and days are a continued round of toil, and worn out and exhausted, he is ordered here and there without feeling or regard. Nothing whatever is done to promote the health and morality of servants, no books allotted them, wherewith to pass away the hour of occasional inaction and which consequently brings evil in its train-cards and other games of chance are introduced, the effects of which in too many cases, it is easier to imagine than describe. This description will not apply to the higher class of servants, housekeepers, and butlers, lady's maids, etc., who are generally provided with all the comforts of a home, though towards them the same haughty demeanour is visible. The condition of the more menial female servants, is also a subject of complaint, as, except in the largest families, no other rooms are allotted to them, than the servants'-hall, shared with them by the male servants. This intermingling of the sexes cannot be too strongly reprobated, knowing, as we do, the results that too often arise therefrom; they are also exposed to those allurements that are too often the only study of the young hot-headed scions of the families, and gulled and bewildered by their promises, the brightest ornament of a family, upon the cheek of whom the mother's tear has dropped at parting, at the same time offering a prayer to God to preserve her daughter from the temptations that may beset her path, is lost, and perhaps, for ever, from the path of virtue and of peace. Such then is their condition; a class degraded as regards position, but famed for their honesty and worth, and in every way worthy of our attention, esteem, and support. It is gratifying, however, to be able to record a few tokens of their worth, and turn from the picture I have depicted to one more pleasing. Much of the happiness of families depends on their servants; from the earliest infancy, till the eye closes in rest for ever, what a series of kind and good oflices have been performed, what a combination of attention and care on their part. Sir W. Scott considered "that an individual's happiness was more intimately connected with the personal character of the valet than with that of the monarch himself," and yet how seldom has the business of the employer been connected with the employed, how seldom does he seek counsel and advice of, or even tolerate any intimacy with him. One or two records I will allude to, tokens of esteem, honourable to all parties. In the grave-yard at Twickenham, is to be seen a stone bearing the following inscription: To the Memory of who died 5th Nov., 1725, aged 78. Alexr. Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy and constantly crected this stone in gratitude to a faithful servt. On Madame de Genlis being made acquainted with this, she said, "This announcement of gratitude is the more remarkable for its singularity, as I know of no other instance." Side by side with the above are to be placed the names of Gifford and Young, all literary characters of eminence, and who in simple words record their respect for and the worth of their faithful servants. A visit to our metropolitan cemeteries or country churchyards will repay the enquirer in finding numerous instances of devotion recorded similar to the above-an occasional glance at the obituary of our daily papers will be repaid by finding such mementos as the following : "Died on Saturday, 19th of February, 1848, at the residence of J. C. Wood, Esq., Hannah Patterson, aged 53. She lived thirty-five years servant in the same family; her loss is lamented by master, mistress, children, and household, as that of a faithful and attached friend." It is a pleasing task to record such thoughts as the above: may the example of Mr. Wood find many followers. Other instances may be recorded, exemplifying that true devotion, which commonly arises in the servant from kindness on the part of the employer. A gentleman was travelling with his valet through a forest in Poland, when they were suddenly set upon by wolves, who rushed furiously at the carriage. The faithful servant seeing instantly, that either he or the gentleman must fall a victim, exclaimed "Protect my wife and children," threw himself into the midst of them, and by this noble act of devotion saved his employer. Who has not heard of the devotion and attachment of Le Tellier, the servant of Monsieur Bartlemy, who determined on following his employer to Cayenne, the place of his exile, got an order from the Directory, permitting him to accompany him. On being informed of the horrors that awaited his determination, he answered -" My mind is made up. I shall be but too happy to share the misfortunes of my master." Such true nobility is rare; let us then cherish it in the annals of humanity. Let us now turn from our own to compare it with the "domestic system abroad. In the Northern States of North America, the accursed, aye, doubly accursed, feudal system could not flourish, a democratic soil was uncongenial to its growth, thence we find the word servant abolished, the term "helps" substituted, and the greatest freedom exists between |